


Cry when it hurts, Laugh when it's funny

by NovaStars42



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Awkwardness, Caught red handed, Cute boys bein' cute, Day 1, Established Relationship, Fluff, Football, High School, JohnDave Week, Kissing, M/M, love and reassurance, why isnt that a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-23 01:57:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11392986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovaStars42/pseuds/NovaStars42
Summary: A cute football AU for @Jayspants on Tumblr!The prompt was "John is a jock, and Dave his boyfriend, John more the outgoing character and while Dave's pretty cool he's not the out-there-in-the-party type and honestly like a lil fanfic scene where Dave meets John in the locker rooms after a game, whether he wins or loses, and something fluffy with maybe some embarrassing kisses."Enjoy!





	Cry when it hurts, Laugh when it's funny

**Author's Note:**

> I did this cool lil trade with @Jay's pants for day one of JohnDave week! but looking at the prompt now I think maybe i misunderstood! but you know what? It was super fun and thats all that matters! 
> 
> Their part, A cute lil 80s Au: http://jayspants.tumblr.com/post/162563173110
> 
> Enjoy Jay!

The locker room was a mix of old and new. It was built with the school in the seventies, meaning it was in a dim little hole at the back of the school that let out near the football field. The tiling on the floor was original, but the tiling on the walls had been replaced around ninety-eight, so it wasn’t too dingy just yet. Give it five more graduating classes.

The school had spent its football budget wisely this year. Along with new helmets, they had replaced the lockers. Painted proud with the school colors, bright blue, with an electric yellow stripe running down the middle. The benches were new too, lacquered pine, and bolted firmly to the ground and able to take a beating by home or away players.  
The showers had been turned off ages ago, but the humidity still lingered in the air. It was a late Friday night. People had places to be, people to see, and only one pigskin player remained.

  
John sat with his duffle between his legs and his equipment heaped on top of it. He was dressed again, but he hadn’t moved a muscle besides that. Sweat had dried in his messy mop of helmet hair and on his skin, and he smelled like dirt and perspiration. He was sticky to the touch, but he still rested his face in his hands, and his elbows on his knees.

They’d lost. It felt like the goddamn end of the world. Ruined his team's chances of going to regionals, of going to state, of catching college scout attention. Shit. It was all John’s fault too, though his team would never blame him. If he hadn’t fumbled, if he’d caught that pass just like he’d practiced. Huffing, John kicked his bag against a locker. The door to the locker room open and shut, squeaking on its hinges. He didn’t want to look up. He knew exactly who is was coming.

“I don’t wanna talk about it coach,” John groaned. He really wasn’t in the mood for an ass chewing.

“It’s me, dummy.”

John looked up, his hands dropping between his legs. “Oh. Hi, Dave.”

“Hey, Jughead,” his boyfriend grinned. Dressed for the late September weather outside, Dave wore a light knit sweater to combat the autumnal chill. He had a red flannel on over it, and a pair of boots he’d tucked his jeans in to. Clutching a cup of concession stand hot cocoa, he smiled down at John.

“Good game.”

“No, it wasn’t,” John disagreed, “I’m a friggin idiot. Who drops a pass like that? It was perfect.”

“Dude, you literally played the entire game, and you spent half time working on plays. You got no break. Plus you literally had less than a second before the game ended. Cut yourself some slack,” Dave held his grin. He stepped over John’s bag and slid on to the bench beside him. “Trust me, I’ve been to every single one of your games this year and last. You played really well.”

“Thanks,” John replied. Though they were the same height, John’s torso was twice the size of Dave’s, so when he bumped him with his shoulder Dave’s whole frame moved.

“So, I heard a rumor in the bleachers,” Dave said, nonchalant. He sat his cup down on the floor and made a point of moving it away from his feet.

“Yeah? What was that?” John asked, eyebrows raising.

“I heard that Homecoming this year is gonna be a Sadie Hawkins. And neither of us are girls, so I’m tryin’ to figure out how the hell I’m supposed to ask you to the dance.”

“You are the hugest dork,” John laughed, slinging his arm around Dave’s middle and pulling him close. Dave slipped his right arm under John’s and wrapped his left arm around his boyfriend's barrel of a chest. Dave squeezed, and John pulled him closer, burying his face in Dave’s thin cut of hair. He took good care of his hair, John often noted, it was always soft.

“Says the guy that literally smells like a used jock,” Dave giggled, pushing his nose into the crook of John’s neck.

“Do you want my jock? I promise it smells a lot worse,” John joked, and Dave retorted by blowing a raspberry into his skin. John squealed, jerking back laughing.

“You’re gross,” Dave grinned, a few tremors of laughter still in him.

“And you still kiss me, so you’re gross too. At least half as gross,” John replied. He memorized every shadow, every freckle, every wayward strand of hair on his boyfriends face, but there was always more to look at. More of Dave to fill his senses and knock the sense out of him.

“Speaking of kissing.”

Dave leaned in and John meet him half way, brushing their lips together lightly before going back for a real kiss. Dave’s lips were chapped from sitting outside, and John’s were swollen from his mouth guard, but neither of them seemed to care. The first kiss was chaste, a simple peck on the lips. The next was deeper as John tilted his head.

Dave’s arms wrapped around John’s neck, trying still to pull himself closer despite the absence of space between them. Their lips separated with a wet pop, just long enough to catch a breath and then back in they went. Lip locking like two hours worth of football almost wasn't worth it. Almost. 

“John! Jesus Christ, boy, I’ve been waiting for you to come out of this locker room for a half hour and you’re in here sucking face!”

Both boys jumped away from each other like they’d been slapped. Dave pushed off of John’s chest, scrambling backward and off of his boyfriend. John fell backward and ended up with his knees up on the bench and his torso against the lockers, his ass pinned between the two.

The high school football coach was a senior history teacher and a damn good one at that. He was bald headed, with a salt and pepper beard, and a beer belly to beat the best of them. The only thing intimidating about him was his gruff bark of a voice, striking fear into the hearts of even the burliest line backers.

“Oh shit!” John swore, trying to push himself off the lockers and get himself unstuck. “Oh shit, it’s not what it looks like.”

“It’s exactly what it looks like!” Dave laughed, already on his feet and jogging past the school’s football coach. The door squeaked as he left the room.

“I’m sorry, Mr. McDonald,” John mumbled. He leaned forward, trying to hook his knee over the bench, but the shift in weight on had him falling the rest of the way down and landing in a heap on the cold tile.

John’s teacher reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, shaking his head slowly. “You know, I came in here to tell you that you played a damn good game, but I feel like I should be telling you something else.”

“No, I got it, thanks though. My dad already told me all about respect and stuff,” John replied sheepishly, untangling his limbs and finally standing up. His cheeks burned.

“Your dad’s a good man, always liked him,” his teacher nodded, pointedly awkward. They both stood there for a moment, unable to make eye contact and both too embarrassed to speak. Mr. McDonald turned then and took a few steps toward the door, and then as if he’d made up his mind started walking. John barely heard him say “Good game, anyway,” as he left the room.

The door hinges squeaked as they opened and shut, and then moments later they repeated.

“You’re such an asshole,” John huffed, picking up his bag in one hand and pads in the other. “You left me.”

“You love it, though,” Dave smirked. “I’m not gonna stand there, red faced with my thumb up my ass while you and Mr. Manly Man stumble through an awkward conversation like a twelve-year-old explaining his internet history to his mom. Fuck, if I wanted an uncomfortable silence I could just ask my Bro if I could start calling him dad. That might e kind of funny, actually. Maybe I will do that.”

“You’re rambling,” John deadpanned, leading the way down the aisle between the lockers and through the squeaking door one last time. The school hallway was dark, only a few lights left on.

“You love that, too.”

Smiling once again, John rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay. So what were you saying about asking me to Homecoming again?"

**Author's Note:**

> There is MORE art here :D   
> https://clayowls.tumblr.com/post/162589596063/cry-when-it-hurts-laugh-when-its-funny


End file.
